


Simple Complications

by lil_Tasha



Category: Marvel, Marvel (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Angst, Angst and Feels, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Clint Barton & Natasha Romanov Friendship, F/M, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Fluff and Hurt/Comfort, Light Angst, Natasha Needs a Hug, Natasha Romanov Is Not A Robot, Protective Clint Barton, The Author Regrets Nothing
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-06-28
Updated: 2016-06-28
Packaged: 2018-07-18 18:51:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 1,892
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7326310
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lil_Tasha/pseuds/lil_Tasha
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Natasha Romanoff hates complicated. She likes things simple. She does not do complicated. She does things simple. The thing is, she's a very complicated person. And given her past, she has every reason to be. Simple just isn't who she is. Of course, she would never admit that. For that would be compromising. It would mean admitting to her emotions which is something she was trained not to do. Why's that? Because emotions are complicated. And what does Natasha Romanoff not do? Complicated.<br/>But what happens when her partner reveals things about her she wished would stay hidden? Makes things complicated? Will she succumb to her emotions? Or will she abide by her training and keep things simple?</p>
<p>A four part Clintasha fanfiction.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter One

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Implication of physical and sexual abuse.

> _If she flinches when you go to put your arm around her, someone else's hand once wasn't too sweet._

* * *

The first time he touched her, she flinched away violently as if a spark had landed on her sensitive skin. She was only sixteen and he was seven years her senior. It wasn't a sexual advance, but he made a mental note to himself to keep a few feet in between them after that.

A few days later and she was apologizing to him.

"For what?" he asked, a puzzled look on his face.

"For flinching away from you the other day when you'd touched me," she answered quietly, her gaze fixated on the floor. "I just kind of panicked and—"

"Nat," he said, shaking his head, and cutting her off mid-sentence. "You don't need to apologize for anything," he told her, his voice soft. "Nor do you need to explain yourself."

She nodded silently in reply.

* * *

The second time he touched her, he was angry. But not with her. This time, she was eighteen. Natasha's instinct told her to turn away when his hand came near her. And when his skin came in contact with hers, she lost it.

"I'm so sorry!" she exclaimed. Her face was turned away from his and he'd immediately realized his mistake. "I'm so sorry, Clint," she repeated.

He backed away from her, not knowing exactly how to fix the problem he'd just created. Clint only stayed quiet, hoping she would come back around soon enough. But the silence was torture for Natasha, causing her to deteriorate as it dragged on. At this point, she had her face covered with her trembling hands.

"Nat," Clint said after a while, his voice calmer and softer than just a few minutes ago. "I'm sorry for touching you without your permission," he told her. "I'm sorry for touching you out of anger."

She shook her head, eyes still averted. "It's okay!"

Clint sighed softly. "Nat, it's not okay," he retorted. "Did I hurt you?"

No answer.

"Natasha."

 _Shudder_.

"Did I hurt you?" he repeated.

A few more moments of silence, but he gave her a chance to answer this time. "No," she whispered. "You didn't hurt me."

"God, Nat. I'm so sorry," Clint admitted.

Natasha only stayed silent, green eyes focused on her intertwined fingers.

"Can I touch you?" he asked quietly.

Hesitantly, she looked up at him before nodding a moment later. Clint slowly reached out and gently placed his hand on Natasha's arm. She tensed and her breath hitched in her throat.

Clint swallowed noticeably. "I'm not going to hurt you, Tasha. I promise." He moved towards her and wrapped his arms around her small form.

Natasha stayed stiff for a while before finally relaxing in his warm embrace.

"They hurt me there," she whispered, leaning her head against his chest, and closing her eyes.

Clint sighed softly and rested his chin in her fiery red hair. "I know, Tash." And he did.

After some silence, she spoke again. "Thank you, Clint." _I love you._

"You're welcome, Natasha." _I love you, too._


	2. Chapter Two

 

> _If she questions you, someone else lied to her._

* * *

It was their first mission together. Natasha was now twenty. She'd received a gunshot wound just underneath her ribcage. Clint had insisted on carrying her into their hotel room, but of course, she refused his half a dozen offers. He managed to help her walk inside with her arm over his shoulders and his wrapped around her waist.

"Why are you so persistent on trying to help me?" she asked as they walked through the hotel room door.

Clint somewhat shrugged. "You're my partner and I care about you." He glanced over at her contorted face.

Natasha had given up on trying to hide the pain at this point. But her guard wasn't dropping anytime soon.

"Why are you so reluctant to allow me to help you?" he asked as he sat her down on the couch.

She didn't reply verbally. Her green eyes shooting daggers at him was the only response Clint needed before shutting up and rushing to the bathroom to retrieve the first aid kit. He raised an eyebrow when he returned to her.

"I can do it myself," Natasha told him, snatching the little white box from Clint's hands with a little more force than necessary.

"Alright. Well, I'll be in the next room over if you need anything," he told her, though he knew she probably wouldn't unless she was actually dying.

Natasha nodded once as she watched him leave the room. She then opened the box and dug through its contents for the tweezers and antiseptic. She knew this was going to hurt like hell, but she'd endured pain much worse than this. Natasha only hoped she could manage to keep her sounds of pain to a minimum.

Unzipping and peeling her catsuit off was the first challenge Natasha faced. It clung to her body like a second skin in general, but being sweaty, and caked in blood—some belonging to her—didn't help when trying to get it off. But she somehow managed to roll it down to her waist without causing herself too much pain. The next challenge was going to be removing the bullet. She had done this almost a dozen times before to herself and younger girls at the Red Room who didn't know how. But it had been a while.

Grabbing the tweezers, she found the entry wound, and dug them in. She bit the inside of her cheek to avoid making too much noise. But she assumed she must've been making enough for Clint to hear her and for his footsteps to be quickly approaching.

"Nat," he said softly, walking around, and crouching in front of her. "Please, let me help you."

Natasha pulled the tweezers from the wound and covered her chest with her arms. She had on a bra, yet, she still felt a little uncomfortable. _Vulnerable_.

"I know my boundaries with you," Clint assured her with a slight smile. "Alright?"

She was extremely hesitant at first, but she eventually nodded, and handed him the tweezers. "If you even think about trying anything," Natasha warned as he moved closer to her.

"I promise you that I won't." He leaned forward to inspect the wound. "Just let me know if you want me to stop, okay?" he asked, receiving a curt nod in reply.

His hand rested above the area of the inflamed skin and he felt her almost immediately tense.

"Relax, Nat," he told her.

"That's easier said than done," she retorted sharply.

Clint sighed. "Just try?" he then asked. "It'll hurt more if you don't."

She rolled her eyes. "I know."

It took a few minutes, but Clint finally felt Natasha's muscles relax under his hand. He leaned forward again and inserted the tweezers into the wound. Her hands gripped the couch cushions as she tried to refrain from tensing again. And just a few minutes later, the bullet was out. Natasha released a breath she hadn't realized she was holding. Clint then did her the favor of cleaning, stitching, and bandaging the wound. He packed up the first aid kit and stood. She grabbed his wrist before he could walk away and gave him a small nod.

_Thank you._

Clint smiled a little. "You're welcome," he said.


	3. Chapter Three

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger warning: anxiety attack

 

 

> _If she doesn't tell you things, someone else once betrayed her secrets._

* * *

Their fourth mission together was a nightmare. Natasha was twenty-two years old and they were undercover as a rich, married couple. Everything had been going fine until Clint noticed how antsy she was getting. He watched how Natasha's green eyes flickered around the crowded ballroom and how her shoulders tensed noticeably whenever someone bumped into her. The most alarming signs were her fast, shallow breaths and the way she almost jumped out of her skin when he lightly touched her arm. But before he could say anything, she was pushing past anyone in her way, and rushing out the door.

Clint knew better than to put emotions before his job, especially a mission of top priority as this one. But something was wrong with his partner and he was going to find out what. He wasted no time exiting the ballroom and tracking her phone, knowing she wouldn't pick up if he called. So when he found her back at their hotel, he wasn't too surprised.

"Nat," he said, knocking lightly on her door. When she didn't respond, he tested the handle, and was almost shocked to find it unlocked. "Nat," Clint repeated softly, closing the door behind him as he slowly walked into her room.

He found her sitting on the floor on the other side of the bed, knees pulled up to her chest, and tucked underneath her chin with her back to the bed. Her heels were off to the side.

Neither of them said anything as Clint silently sat down next to her, his legs stretched out in front of him. He occasionally glanced over at Natasha to see if anything about her had changed since he'd arrived, but there was nothing.

"It was too much," she said after a while. Her voice was quiet and almost distant as she spoke. "I had to get out of there."

"What happened?" Clint asked softly, looking over at his partner who still hadn't moved an inch.

Natasha moved, but only to shake her head. "It was nothing," she told him.

Raising an eyebrow, he replied, "You and I both know that's not true, Natasha. I've known you for seven years and we've been partners for two. I can tell when you're lying to me."

There was no denying the accuracy of his words. He was right and they both knew that for a fact.

"Agoraphobia," Natasha replied after a long period of silence. "The fear of open spaces or of being in crowded, public places." She sighed heavily. "The fear of leaving a safe place."

"Nat, I—"

" _Had no idea_ ," she finished, cutting him off. "I know. I don't tell people things like that. It makes me too vulnerable because it's exposing a weakness."

"If you would've told me or Fury then we could've—"

"What?" she snapped, finally looking over at him. "You two could've what? Taken me off the mission? Given me a different one that didn't involve a crowd? No. That's not how I want things to be. That's not how I work. I was trained to have no fears and to adjust to anything. I can adjust and get over it."

Clint ran a hand through his short hair. "It doesn't have to be that way, Tasha," he said calmly. "All you had to do was tell me at least before we had arrived here or even before we made it to the ballroom. I'm sure we could've worked something out to make it more comfortable for you."

Natasha shook her head. "I was fine until I lost sight of you. And even though you had showed up again, it startled me so I ran," she admitted. "You're my safe place, Clint and I feared having left you."

His arms were around her in an instant and she relaxed almost immediately. "I'm not going anywhere," he whispered. "And you don't ever have to worry about losing me."


End file.
